


He Looked Through the Ceiling

by chaoticbeing



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-23 21:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16626833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticbeing/pseuds/chaoticbeing
Summary: “David?” Jon gave a soft smirk.David looked up from his playing. It took a second to process that Jon had been standing there the whole time. His fingers didn’t stop playing the base melody, but he paused his singing.“yea. he’s a dude in psalms i think that sang these cool songs and God dug them.”“I didn’t study the Bible.”“neither did i, kiddo. i just know the story.”





	He Looked Through the Ceiling

**Author's Note:**

> Song used in fic -  
> Hallelujah - Jeff Buckley  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vIw0ewEsNHs

    The sound of guitar plucking stands out in the small apartment.

    Jonathan looks up from one of his many books to process the sound. It wasn’t just a casual practice, it was a melody. A song was going to be played.

    He shut the book and got up steadily. He had to recount how to get around his new home, still not used to it, different from the countryside or prison. If he went this way, he could cycle around, scan each room, and see where the melody was coming from, right?

    This flat wasn’t huge, he could get around with ease.

    Making his way out of the kitchen, he went one way and

    Nope. The only dead-end he could possibly get, he found.

    The plucking still rang out. Practicing a melody, some mess ups, but somehow, still beautiful.

    Reversing, Jon tried the other way. This was the right way. There was no other option, so of course, this had to be the right way.

    He found the bedroom that his flatmate had been sleeping in. Propped up on his bed, he was now strumming. An old guitar that looked like he had it since childhood. 

    Something about the guitar fit the older man perfectly. The messy hair, the hoodie, people around him made jokes that he looked like an art student, or a washed-up musician.

    Jon hadn’t met a large number of either of those. Maybe the comparison made sense.

_     “well, i heard there was a secret chord,” _

    He was singing now. Rusty, quiet, maybe he wasn’t confident yet.

_    “that David played and it pleased the Lord,” _

    “David?” Jon gave a soft smirk.

    David looked up from his playing. It took a second to process that Jon had been standing there the whole time. His fingers didn’t stop playing the base melody, but he paused his singing.

    “yea. he’s a dude in psalms i think that sang these cool songs and God dug them.”

    “I didn’t study the Bible.”

    “neither did i, kiddo. i just know the story.”

    Jon swayed across the floor, settling to be roughly in front of the washed-up singer. He kept his space.

_    “but you don’t really care for music, do ya?” _

    David’s voice was a little stronger now, and his eyes flicked up to Jon when he said ‘you’. Suddenly this song had a second person, Jon didn’t exactly know how to feel.

_     “well it goes like this: _

_     the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift _

_     the baffled king composing Hallelujah.” _

    That was when he moved into softly singing the chorus in a voice that Jon had only heard a couple times previously. A sad, comforting tone, with too much heart in it to be human.

_     “Hallelujah, Hallelujah,” _

    The way he sang reminded Jon of back when he lived on the countryside with his father. Church was something everyone took part in, with the hymns and gospel, never hopeful, just respectful. David looked like, and sounded like, he belonged there.

_     “Hallelujah,” _

    Jon could imagine him just the same, sitting on the broken steps of the small chapel.

_     “Hallelujah…” _

    The base melody played again, leaving Jon in a state of subtle uncertainty. Was he going to continue the song? Or should Jon clap now?

    David kept his eyes watching his own fingers for a second. His shoulders tensed, like he was scared. Why would he be scared? There was nothing to fear for now.

    Perhaps he had stage fright? Was he not going to continue to sing?

_     “well your faith was strong but you needed proof _

_     you saw him bathing on the roof _

_     his beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya,” _

    He continued on, in his own way.

    Both of them knew why he had changed the lyrics. It was one of the “bonding” discussions they had. 

    Jon, really, had only asked why David didn’t have anyone come over. David only made a joke that he had already replaced Jon’s dad, how would Jon be able to cope with a second, additional dad, being in the home? ‘Three dads throughout your whole life, Jonny? Could either of us handle it?’

    With the way David sang this verse, maybe he wanted to handle it.

_     “he tied you to his kitchen chair _

_     he broke your throne and he cut your hair _

_     and from your lips he drew the Hallelujah,” _

    Blue eyes glanced back at Jon. This verse was for him.

    It hit Jon in a way he didn’t expect.

    He felt his own hand running through the almost shoulder-length hair. Nervously touching it, but at the same time, thinking back to the time David offered to cut it.

    He said no. David could’ve easily made him do it, but he didn’t.

    David, technically, had the power to make Jon do whatever he wanted. But he didn’t. He never did.

_     “Hallelujah,” _

    David’s voice went back down to the soft appreciation of the word. Jon couldn’t believe how fitting this sounded, how smoothly the melody played, everything about it.

_    “Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah,” _

    Third verse. Jon was captivated at this point. David’s eyes were darting from watching his fingers to up at him, as if expecting some sort of praising face.

    Jon didn’t think he was giving the right kind of face. Don’t think he was giving a face at all, actually, if not for the awe.

    But David kept going. His gaze kept on Jon, making Jon assume that this verse was for him. Somehow, David had taken this classic song, and decided to make it about the boy  that wound up in his home only a couple months ago.

_     “well, Jonny, i've been here before _

_     i've seen this room and i've walked this floor,  _ you know,

_     i used to live alone before i knew ya.” _

    The emotion was welling up at this point, David’s voice cracking occasionally, and his suddenly grew more confident with this verse. He was pouring out a lot into this.

    He lived alone. Jon knew this, because the type of job that David kept wasn’t one you kept company with. Fear wasn’t something that needed a friend. The flat was for two people. Jon knew this, because of the two bedrooms, and the space,

    David was filling an apartment with one person, barely covering half the space. Jon felt like he locked into place here.

    The bed was only for him, in his room. The kitchen had two chairs. The couch was made for two people. Two people.

    If David ever wanted to bring another man in, they’d have to move, or he wouldn’t be able to live here.

    He was smart, Jon told himself. He thought about this, certainly. Within the several years he followed Jon’s case from home to asylum to Arkham. 

     And his tone he gave was caring. He felt better with Jon being here, didn’t he?

_     “and i've seen your flag on the marble arch _

_     and love is not a victory march,” _

    His voice was getting louder now, more emotional, almost breaking, swelling. He meant every word that he was singing now.

_     “it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah-” _

     It’s a cold and broken heart.

_     “Hallelujah,” _

    It’s the cold and broken floor of a kitchen.

_     “Hallelujah,” _

    It’s a cold and broken body.

_     “Hallelujah-” _

    His voice pitched up again. Jon noticed that now his eyes were shut, and letting the music flow through him, through him to Jon and making Jon feel something he only felt as a child in church. It made him shake.

_     “well, there was a time when you let me know _

_     what's really going on below _

_     but now you never show that to me, do ya? _

_     but remember when i moved in you _

_     and the holy dove was moving too-” _

    This verse caused the shaking to dig into a part of Jon’s mind. If he could still be scared, he’d be terrified that he had done something wrong, to get this verse directed at him. Would’ve had he not been open enough with David? With the man who took him in?

    What could he not be telling him?

    But at the same time, what if this verse wasn’t about Jon at all? What if it was about David, about things he hadn’t told him. The panic attacks, the crying, the beer bottles in his room, everything Jon had noted and simply stored away.

_     “and every breath we drew was ‘Hallelujah’.” _

     Eyes opening, his head went from looking at Jon to looking up at the ceiling. He was looking through the ceiling.

     He didn’t even pause for the chorus.

_     “maybe there's a God above _

_     but all I've ever learned from love _

_     was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya--” _

    His voice is shaking now to the point that Jon’s starting to worry. A little bit of emotion in a song was good, but this, he didn’t want to see David breakdown,

    If only because he would have no idea what to do if he did.

    But there’s a power in it. In his voice. He takes a deep breath and starts louder, louder than he had been before. 

_     “and it's not a cry that you hear at night _

_     it's not somebody who's seen the light-” _

    It was as if he was trying to tell someone something. Something important, something heavy on his soul, and he was singing it through the roof of the apartment, through the clouds, to wherever it would reach. Whomever it would reach.

_     “it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah.” _

    David’s voice pitched. His eyes were wide open, staring. Staring at the popcorn ceiling, the stains, nothing, everything.

    It hit Jon seeing that terrified eye. He was cold and broken.

    Both of them were cold and broken, and had to find warmth and repair within each other.

    David shuttered and kept playing his melody.This was no longer a song he had covered, he had taken control over it. Whenever Jon would hear this song again, he would say that it was David’s.

    David kept playing his song, fading out the chorus. He had collapsed at this point, looking down at his fingers. His cheeks were red, like he was about to start sobbing any minute.

    “David,”

    “yea?”

    “I think you did your name justice.”

    “...thank you,”

    That smile on his face. Jon smiled back.


End file.
